First Christmas
by Boudicca's Revolt
Summary: First Christmas is a set of twelve of Molly's Christmas memories. This chapter takes place the December after Arthur died Read Killing Arthur Weasley. 12th and final chapter is now up! Enjoy and REVIEW!
1. Chapter 1

When Molly looked back on her life, she smiled

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns everything except the plot of my story which belongs to me and the excerpt from "I'll Be Home for Christmas" which belongs to Kent and James Gannon.**

**"_Christmas Eve will find me _**_**  
**_**_Where the love-light gleams. _**_**  
**_**_I'll be home for Christmas_**_**  
**_**_If only in my dreams."_**

**_-Kent and James Gannon_**

When Molly looked back on her life, she smiled. She had accomplished most of what she wanted to accomplish. She had married a man who had loved her as much as she loved him and together they had created seven beautiful children. She and Arthur had made their tiny house into a very large home. They had filled it with nearly a hundred years worth of love and memories. A hand-knit afghan here, a figurine Ron had painted there. It added up, year after year, decade after decade until the Burrow became a museum of sorts, the resting place for everything Weasley.

Arthur had died the summer before and this would be their first Christmas without him. She felt the loss of him everyday though the pain of it was nothing like losing Fred. It was more like he had gone on an extended holiday without her and she wasn't quite sure what he was up to. The selfish part of her hoped she wouldn't have to wait too long to find out.

She drew a blanket around her shoulders. It was one she had knitted for Arthur on their first Christmas together as husband and wife. It had all gone by in a blink of an eye. She walked out onto the porch he had built for her 80th Birthday. The sun was setting over the hills, spraying its pink glow through the branches of the trees. She pushed a strand of silvery hair from her face. The whole family would be coming the next day to spend Christmas Eve with her. Her children had long since made their own children and those children had made children. She could no longer knit Christmas jumpers for all of them by herself so she had enlisted the help of her daughters-in-law (Ginny would no sooner step near knitting needles than she would a feral cat) and granddaughters.

She let out a deep sigh and sat down in her rocking chair, flicking her wand absently toward the kitchen. A tray with cup, saucer, and a steaming tea pot appeared beside her. With another flick, the porch heated up and she settled down for her favorite part of the day in her favorite place in whole world. Bill and Fleur had offered her a place at Shell Cottage after Arthur's death but she couldn't leave the Burrow. It had been her home for so long that she couldn't bear the thought of not living out her last days there. She poured herself a cup of tea.

Lately, she found herself remembering those first years at the old house. She and Arthur had been so hopelessly _young _then, so naïve, so blissfully happy. He had surprised her with the house on her twentieth Birthday. Before that, they had rented a tiny flat right outside Diagon Alley. Then the Burrow was comprised of a mere four rooms. There was the kitchen, the living room, study and then a small bedroom and bathroom. It was sitting in the middle of a big field that Arthur had inherited from his uncle. Arthur had been saving and reading up on buildings for the better part of the year, before they had even gotten married.

"_Arthur, are you ever going to tell me what this is about?" _

"_Patience, patience," he laughed, his hands still covering her eyes. _

"_Pish! Let me see!" He chuckled once more but lifted his hands swiftly. She blinked a couple of times in the bright afternoon sun. For a moment, it didn't register. She turned to him questioningly. _

"_Welcome home Mollywobbles." _

"_You're joking!" she exclaimed, spinning around and gripping his forearms, gazing into his eyes. _

"_Nope, finished the work last week. It's all ours!" _

"_Ours?! This is our house?" Molly's grin grew painfully wide and she planted a wet kiss on Arthur's lips before bounding toward the house. She pulled open the front door and stepped inside. It was perfect, twice as big as their flat. The walls were a homey evergreen and the floors were made of sturdy, heavily distressed oak. _

"_I got the floorboards from that old house in London, you know the one," Arthur stated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other self consciously. _

"_I love the floors. I love these walls. I love this house. I _love _you Arthur. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, ever in my whole life." She pulled him to her, kissing him deeply. She was twenty and married and had a house. He broke the kiss, pushing a strand of her hair from her face tenderly and tucking it behind her ear, smiling down at her. _

"_You're well worth it. I only wish I could have-"_

"_No, none of that," she stopped him, drawing her face into her sternest frown. "Don't you dare say anything bad about this house. It's perfect, absolutely perfect. When are we moving in?"_

"_Uh, well, to be honest, I hadn't thought it through that far," Arthur admitted sheepishly. Molly grinned at him._

"_That's why you have me right? We'd fall to pieces without each other." _

Molly smiled faintly. In the grand scheme of things, their time as just the two of them didn't amount to much. They had made up a lifetime of memories though. Sex on the kitchen floor, ill-fated craft projects, painting, hanging things on the walls, all of these things which made them . . . them and made this her home. She had looked at him differently then and he had looked at her differently. Back then, she was so young, thinner everything up where it should be. At twenty, her body hadn't been pulled, expanded and deflated six times. She remembered slipping out of bed early in the morning to do her hair and brush her teeth, sneaking back between the sheets before he awoke. He had told her once that he had done the same thing, back when he had hair to fix.

It wasn't that their love had faded over the years, far from it. Their love had become stronger and more all-encompassing. She knew him better with each passing year. Still, she couldn't help but be nostalgic of those first years when everything was new and simpler. They hadn't had to worry about wars and paychecks. England was peaceful then. Arthur's pay at the Ministry and her free-lance baking more than covered the costs they had between them. She didn't regret their children or the struggles they had gone through for they had brought husband and wife closer together but . . . She sighed, taking a long sip of tea. She missed him.

Her mind floated, settling on their first Christmas in the Burrow.

A/N: Hey kids. I'm in a Christmassy mood which I know is utterly unacceptable in the middle of October. As my friend Emma has forbade me from listening to Christmas music or in any way get in a Yuletide frame of mind, I decided to write some Christmas story stuff. I hope to have twelve chapters by Christmas Eve. We'll see what happens I hope you liked the chapter and please REVIEW!!

Love from St. Andrews,

Liz


	2. A Very Burrow Christmas

Disclaimer: I own nothing. JK Rowling owns everything except the song which was written by Mel Tormé and Bob Wells. Enjoy and REVIEW!

"_And so I'm offering this simple phrase_

_To kids from one to ninety-two_

_Although it's been said_

_many times, many ways_

_Merry Christmas to you."_

_**- Mel Tormé & Bob Wells**_

Molly pushed her way through the Diagon Alley throng. "How could I have forgotten the most important thing?" she muttered, consulting the list she held grasped in her mitten-clad hand. It was an unseasonably cold December and she shivered despite the heavy, wool cloak she had wrapped around her. Her crimson hair which that morning had been plaited neatly behind her head, was now in disarray. She darted into the Spirits shop. The day had not gone well. For the first time, she was having the family over to _her _house for Christmas dinner and everything needed to be perfect. The morning had started with her oven on the fritz. Arthur had fixed it but she was not completely confident it would continue to work. The bathroom had flooded an hour later which, again, Arthur fixed but it had set Molly in a bad mood. Just as she was about to prepare the goose, she realized that she had forgotten the port she needed for the port glaze. She had also forgotten to get the cranberries for her Cranberry-Orange pudding.

She and Arthur had moved into their new house only a month and a half before. She had devoted all of her free time to making it into a little home and she thought, even with her somewhat meager funds, it had turned out rather nicely. It was cozy and clean, just the way she liked it. Christmas had seemed like the perfect time to show it off. Arthur's parents and one of his brothers, Ed and his wife Gloria along with their two children Megan and Elliot, were going to come along with her parents and two brothers. She had been planning the menu for weeks but cooking for a large group of people on her own was still a new concept. Her mother had always done it with such ease! There was nothing easy about it as far as she was concerned.

She grabbed the smallest bottle of port she could find and brought it up to the register. Once back on the cobblestones, she headed toward the grocery on the corner. Just as she was about to apparate home, she stopped in front of a large window display. It was a novelty store, full of muggle odds and ends. What caught her eyes was a box of small, oddly shaped things. They looked like little, metal rods. She didn't know quite why and she would rue the decision in the years to come, but she entered the shop and bought they little box full of "spark plugs" the shopkeeper had told her. She just knew Arthur would love them.

She hurried home, having lost a good two hours of much needed prep time. Arthur hadn't returned home yet. She had given him a long list of things to get including a Christmas Tree which, knowing Arthur, was going to take all day. It felt strange, not spending Christmas at her parent's house. The year before, she and Arthur had gone in between her parents' house and his. Now she was given the responsibility of creating new Christmas traditions. The food seemed as good a place to start as any. She set to work preparing the goose.

Arthur returned at well past seven. Molly had a plate of sandwhiches on the table and was busy decorating Christmas biscuits. He snuck up behind her as she was carefully pouring royal icing over a gingerbread snowman. He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She jumped in the air and gave him a disapproving look which quickly softened. He looked so boyish, his hand-knit green scarf knotted around his neck, his cheeks, nose and ears bright red. "Happy Christmas Eve my love," he greeted, extending a large bouquet of red poinsettias.

"Oh Arthur, they're lovely!" She fingered them lovingly before grabbing a vase from the cabinet. "Did you get a Christmas Tree?" she asked, snipping off the stems and arranging them in the vase.

"Yes; it's outside. Should I bring it in?"

"Of course you should bring it in! What else would we do with it?" she asked giving him a strange look.

"Right, right of course. I've just never been the one to deal with the tree," he confessed nervously. Before she could say anything more, he ran back outside, reappearing a moment later with a tree that was quite a bit smaller than Molly had anticipated. "Do you like it?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes it's . . . lovely," Molly said, trying to sound convincing.

"I know it's a bit puny but it just looked so lonely there, sitting with all of the other trees not getting chosen. I thought it fit our little house." Arthur sounded so sweet and sincere that Molly's heart melted and she forgot about how small the tree was.

"I completely agree. It suits us perfectly!" she exclaimed, this time really meaning it. Arthur's face broke into a grin.

"I knew you'd think so. I'll set it up." Molly switched on the wireless to the Holiday station and went back to her gingerbread. She was suddenly overcome with an overpowering happiness. This Christmas _was_ going to be perfect after all. Just as she finished icing the last gingerbread candy cane, Arthur finished setting up the tree. It was rather fitting in their small sitting room. He had stood it in front of the window.

"I'll get the decorations," Arthur said, running a hand through his hair distractedly. He came back a moment later with a large, green box. Molly had bought the Christmas decorations a month before and she was eager to open the untouched packages of fairy lights, strings of beads, Christmas ornaments and figurines. She retrieved a box of fresh garland she had purchased the day before from the hall closet.

The two set about decorating the small cottage. By the time they had finished, it was nearly midnight and the two were collapsed on the sofa. "I love this song," Molly murmured, nestling closer to Arthur.

"Me too," he replied, kissing the top of her head. "Would you like to dance?" he asked. She nodded sleepily. He pulled her up and twirled her around, encircling her with his long arms. Just as the clock struck midnight, as if by magic, it began to snow. Molly could see it from the window, through the branches of their softly glowing tree. Whatever happened next with the meal and the family didn't matter much at all because this was already the best Christmas Molly had ever had.

"Happy Christmas Arthur."

"Happy Christmas Mollywobbles."

A/N: So, it's November! I have started listening to Christmas music and wanted to write some utter fluff. I hope you enjoyed it! REVIEW!!!!!!!!


	3. New Robes and Telling Off

Disclaimer: I own no one. JK Rowling own all of the characters and the song "Santa Clause is Coming to Town" belongs to J. Fred Coots and Haven Gillespie. Enjoy and REVIEW!!!

"_You better watch out.  
You better not cry  
better not pout.  
I'm telling you why;  
Santa Claus is coming to town."_

Molly stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom of their small cottage. She had her long, red hair pulled back from her face in a low ponytail, a few strands falling loosely around her oval face. She wore the small, pearl studs Arthur had given her the Christmas before and she had put on makeup for the first time in five months. Despite all of her efforts, however, she still sighed moodily at her reflection. She turned to the side, examining herself in her new, emerald green robes. Despite their flattering cut, she still looked dumpy. As if to remind her of the reason, Bill let out an almighty scream from the bedroom. With one last furtive glance at the mirror she left the room. "Shh, shh," she whispered, picking up the infant. He was still mostly bald though crimson fuzz had begun to spread over his tiny head. She smiled down at him fondly. He wasn't even a month old yet, but she knew, knew in her heart of hearts, that he was destined for big things.

He quieted as soon as she had him in her arms, filling her with the warmth and happiness the mirror refused to grant her. "Mummy is going to put you in your new Christmas robes; that's right," she cooed, carrying him to his room. He had yet to spend a full night there but, because hers and Arthur's room was already packed with their clothes, a bassinet, bed and other odds and ends, she still kept all of his things in the small study turned nursery. She pulled out the Christmas outfit she had bought the week before from his small, blue trunk. The miniature robes were green and red, striped like a candy cane, and had a matching stocking cap.

"Molly?" Arthur called, stepping out of the fireplace in the kitchen.

"I'm in Bill's room," she called back. A small part of her, one she was trying desperately to squelch, told her to straighten her robes, to fix her hair.

"And how was your day?" Arthur asked, leaning against the doorframe. She finished putting booties on Bill's tiny feet before answering.

"Oh it was lovely. We went on a walk to the park and then we finished decorating the Christmas tree and made some toffee for the party." Molly handed their son to Arthur, enjoying the look in Arthur's eye as he gazed down at the boy. "How was your day dear?"

"Not as exciting as yours," he replied mildly, smiling down at Bill who was gazing intently at Arthur's glasses. "You look wonderful," he smiled, looking Molly up and down. She could have kissed him.

"No, well, thank you I . . . When are we supposed to get there?"

"We should probably leave in about fifteen minutes which means," he paused to hand Bill back to her. "I should probably change now." He ambled over to the bedroom and she followed him, sitting down on the bed and watching as he sorted through his side of the closet. He pulled out his nicest robes, deep brown with maroon trim. He pulled off his work robes. Molly was still getting used to changing in front of him and it gave her an odd thrill when he didn't turn his back, that she was privy to an activity to which no one else was privy. It made the three of them seem more like a family. "Perkins said his wife was dying to know your recipe for gingerbread. I said I'd ask but wouldn't hold out much hope," Arthur chuckled, pulling the clean robes over his head.

"Here, let me help," Molly got up, putting Bill in his bed. She straightened Arthur's robes lovingly, brushing the imaginary dust from his shoulders. He leaned down and kissed her lightly, grinning at her cheekily. He kissed her again but Bill began to cry. Molly, blushing profusely went to pick him up. Arthur combed his hair which had become tussled. "Do you think I look alright?" Molly asked tentatively, cradling Bill in her arms. Arthur looked up, confused.

"You look beautiful. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Molly whispered, her cheeks reddening.

"Right, well, we should be off then. You take Bill and I'll get the toffee." Molly nodded, still blushing. She should know better than to ask Arthur questions like that. Baby and toffee in hand, the couple apparated to the home of Mafalda Hopkirk.

The grand front room was teeming with Ministry personnel and their families. Children were running around, sweets and pastries clutched in their sticky hands. Molly took a deep breath, following Arthur into the throng. He caught sight of Mafalda who was serving punch at a side table. "Happy Christmas!" he greeted, smiling. "Molly made toffee." He handed a small, neatly wrapped tin to the tall, rather plump woman who smiled at Molly warmly.

"Thank you Molly," she said in a deep, warm voice. "And who is this?" She asked, gesturing at Bill.

"This is my-our son Bill," Arthur stated proudly.

"Oh he's a dear. Would you care for some punch?" Molly and Arthur nodded. They took their cups. The two wandered around contentedly for a few minutes, chatting with this person and that person before Molly felt a tell-tale warmth spread from the baby in her arms.

"Arthur, Bill needs a change. Did you see the loo?" she whispered.

"I'll do it," Arthur offered, looking down at her.

"No, no, it's my turn."

"Alright, I saw one over there," he pointed toward a small room off to their left. After changing Bill, she reemerged. Arthur was conversing jovially with a tall, balding man who she recognized as his co-worker Perkins. She was about to go and join him when she heard her name uttered in a conspiratorial whisper behind her. She stopped, listening in.

"Who is _that_?" one woman spat in a shrill, irritating voice.

"That's Molly Weasley. She's married to Arthur, that muggle-loving nutter from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. Obviouslyhe doesn't set much store in looks." The other voice was low and croaky. Molly winced, biting her lip to keep herself from crying.

"What is she wearing? She looks like a beached whale and that, that baby! I know we're supposed to think all babies are adorable but-" Molly whirled around, her eyes flashing dangerously. She could stomach a lot of things. They could have said anything about her and a good deal about Arthur too, but the minute they said something about her Bill, well, that was something she would not tolerate.

"Do you mind?" Molly asked, her voice low and furious. "It's Christmas for Merlin's sake. You should be ashamed of yourselves. And for your information, my husband happens to be a very important member of the Ministry of Magic and he is not, by any definition, a nutter. Now why don't you run and find your husbands and try to act more like ladies in the future." With that, she turned on her heel and marched away from the two rail-thin blondes who, she was happy to see, looked at least a little bit penitent.

Later that night, after they'd returned to their house, Molly sat beside her husband, her head resting on his shoulder. She had her hand resting on his leg and he was tracing small circles on it with his long, slender fingers. Bill was asleep and the fire in the grate was burning low. Molly smiled and chuckled, thinking of the looks on the two women's faces.

"What are you laughing about?" Arthur asked, amused.

"Oh, nothing . . . " she trailed off. He didn't need to know. Silently, in the warmth of her husband's presence and the quickly approaching midnight hour, Molly vowed to try and ward off self-pity and to never, ever let anyone speak ill of her family. She was strong and had a husband who loved her, a child who was perfect. What cause had she to be sad? She sighed happily and snuggled closer to Arthur. "It's nothing at all. I just love you."

"I love you too, wait, it's almost here-" the clock chimed.

"Happy Christmas Arthur dear."

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It took a while . . . Another update should be coming soon Please REVIEW!!!!!


	4. Strength

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns almost everything. I own Hettie, Megan and Mr. Prewett. Auld Lang Syne in its original version belongs to Robert Burns; the tune is a traditional folk melody. Enjoy and REVIEW!!**

**"_Should auld acquaintance be forgot_**

**_and never brought to mind?_**

**_Should auld acquaintance be forgot_**

**_and days of auld lang syne?"_**

Molly had never been one to dwell on her sadness. She tried to keep moving when bad things came along. But this . . . she let out a loud sniff, quickly trying to stifle it so Arthur wouldn't wake up. "Molly, are you alright?" he asked in the darkness, turning over on his side and placing a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"I'm f-f-f-fine," she squeezed out before dissolving in tears. Arthur scooted across the bed and pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head. "I c-c-can't believe sh-sh-she's gone," Molly sobbed, burying her face in his night shirt. It had only been a week, a week since all of the happiness Charlie's birth had brought came crashing down around them.

"I know, I know," Arthur whispered, kissing her on the top of her head.

"I don't know what to d-d-d-do anymore. I just miss her so much. I don't know who I am with her gone."

There had been no warning, no hospital waiting rooms, no tests. Molly's mother had been alive one minute and dead the next. Hettie had gone into the woods behind their house to collect pine cones for a wreath and a graphorn that had wandered down from the nearby mountain had attacked her. She hadn't had time to even reach for her wand and by the time Mr. Prewett heard her cries for help it was too late. It had all come as a terrible shock to the family, still basking in the happiness of another addition. Molly had given birth to Charlie three days before Hettie's death, which had occurred only ten days before Christmas. Now, a week later, Molly was faced with making Christmas plans as the family matriarch.

It didn't help that Arthur was pulling doubles at work so they could build an addition to the house and that Charlie, unlike Bill who had been a fairly content and quiet baby, cried incessantly. She had had no idea before Charlie's birth that two children would be so much harder than one. She had envisioned cozy family dinners, Bill playing happily with his little brother. Instead, she was constantly tired, driven insane by Charlie's wails and Bill's seemingly endless supplications. She felt like she was being pulled in a million different directions and while she knew Arthur did as much as he could, she still envied him his job, his escape. She was in no mood for Christmas that year, no mood at all.

Charlie began to cry in the bassinet next to them and Molly closed her eyes, bracing herself. "I'll get him, I'll get him," Arthur murmured in her ear. She felt tears come into her eyes again. It was simply too hard. She couldn't face Christmas that year. She couldn't face Charlie and Bill or Arthur. She couldn't face Gideon and Fabian or her father. She couldn't face the Weasleys. She buried her face in the pillow and closed her eyes. She heard Arthur hum Charlie a lullaby softly. She heard his footsteps as he carried the infant to the kitchen to get a bottle. She had never given Bill a bottle. Her stomach knotted up with guilt. As hard as she tried, she couldn't get to sleep. Arthur returned twenty minutes later, Charlie asleep in his arms. He lay the baby in his bed and climbed in next to Molly, balancing a cup in his hand.

"Drink this; it will help you sleep." Molly was too tired to argue or even to ask what exactly the drink contained so she drank up and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. When she woke up the next morning, the sun was already high in the sky. How long had she slept? Arthur walked in a moment later, buttoning his cloak around his neck. "Good Morning dear," he greeted, leaning over to give her a kiss. "Your brothers have taken Bill and Charlie for the day. I thought you could do with a lie in. I'm going to be home around half four and am going to bring the Christmas tree. We'll decorate today and Megan will be round tomorrow to help you bake. I love you," he kissed her again before grabbing his work bag and heading back to the kitchen to floo.

She sat up. She had a whole day to herself. She rested her head on the headboard and let out a long sigh. Her stomach growled loudly and she looked at the clock on the wall. She had slept in till ten, four hours later than usual. She got up and padded to the kitchen. Arthur had left the pot on along with a plate of toast and eggs. He was a good husband, a very good husband. She sat down with her toast and cup of tea. What was she going to do with herself? She couldn't stew; she would go crazy. If she didn't keep moving she was afraid she would lose the ability.

Molly looked around the room. It was messy. She had always liked a clean house, her whole life. During her childhood, her room had always been a model of neatness. She had made her bed everyday without fail at Hogwarts and up until about two weeks ago, her house had always been spotless. She heard her mother's voice in her head, telling her to stop feeling sorry for herself, to get up and clean. The voice in her head had always been her mother's. She felt her heart freeze as she realized that she would only be hearing that voice inside her head from now on.

She shook off her sadness and started the dishes in the sink with a flick of her wand. She went to the bathroom and washed her face, scrubbing her blood shot eyes with warm water and then put on clean robes and pulled her hair into a bun. Emerging from the bedroom, she surveyed the damage keenly. This was a way of forgetting; this was a way she could escape.

By the time Arthur got home, every surface had been scrubbed and polished. She had reorganized all of the closets, put boxes of odds and ends in the attic, arranged all of their books in alphabetical order. Arthur stepped out of the fire, a look of bewilderment on his face. "Molly?"

"I'm in the living room, Arthur," she called from her crouching position. She was in the process of stitching up a busted seam on their sofa. Arthur stepped into the room, a shrunken Christmas Tree peaking out of a bag slung over his shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, why do you ask?" Molly looked up, pushing a stray piece of hair from her sweaty face.

Arthur made an indistinct sound and averted his gaze. Mourning Molly he could deal with. He could rub her back and wipe her tears. He could take the boys off her hands but this, this he didn't know . . .

"Is that the tree?" she asked, tying off the last stitch before pulling off the excess thread and needle. Arthur nodded. "I got the decorations down from the attic. I thought we could start with the entry way and work our way through systematically. What do you think?" Arthur could only nod. They decorated. All the while, Arthur was becoming increasingly disturbed by Molly's forced cheerfulness. Gideon and Fabian came round with Bill and Charlie around seven and were greeted by a full roast dinner. She smiled all through and even slept through the night, or at least as much of it as she could with Charlie waking up every three hours.

In fact, Arthur, as hard as he looked, did not see Molly's veneer of cheerfulness crack once over the next few days. She didn't crack when Bill pulled Charlie's hair while he was sleeping. She didn't crack when Gideon accidently dropped an entire tray of freshly made biscuits on the floor. She didn't even crack when she uncovered an old family photo in a box of Christmas cards. He was beginning to think that somehow, miraculously, she had gotten over it . . .

It was Christmas Eve. A rather subdued Gideon and Fabian were playing with Bill and his train set (complete with real steam). Charlie was, for once, sleeping peacefully. Molly's father was sitting in the easy chair, looking intently . . . sadly into the fire. Arthur's family was planning on coming the next day. Molly was putting the finishing touches on Christmas dinner. Arthur picked up the tray of empty egg nog cups and carried it into the kitchen.

Molly was bent double over the sink, one hand clutching her stomach and the other covering her eyes which were filled with tears. Muffles sobs seemed to fill the room. In a moment, Arthur had his arms around her, the tray sat half-hazardly on the table. "Please don't," Molly shuddered.

"But-"

"I have to hold myself together, I . . ." she dissolved into tears again.

"No one is expecting you to be happy dearest. You've suffered a-"

"But I _have_ to hold myself together or I'll break into a million p-p-p-pieces. They _need _me Arthur. Dad, Gideon, Fabian, _they need_ me to be alright."

"That's not your responsibility," Arthur explained protectively, hugging her closer.

"But it _is_," Molly replied, taking a couple of deep breaths to steady herself. "Mum is gone so they need me to fill her place. Arthur, I, I _can't_ break apart. They need me and I-I _need_ them to _need _me. Please don't tell them I've been crying. It's Christmas Eve, Charlie's first Christmas Eve . . . " she trailed off. Arthur looked on helplessly as she began stirring the sauce on the stove, silent tears still running down her face. Her strength over their years together would never cease to amaze him.

"Alright Mollywobbles but know that I'm hear to pick up the pieces if you need to fall apart." She nodded, giving him a watery smile.

"I know."

A/N: You didn't think everything would be happy in this story did you? Anywho, thanks to the person who reviewed the last chapter. I ABSOLUTLY LOVE REVIEWS!!! Make my day and shoot me one!!!!!

Peace, Love, and Happiness,

Liz


	5. Understanding

Disclaimer: I own nothing. JK owns all of the canon characters. I've added some nothing characters which are mine technically. The song lyrics to "Christmas Time is Here" belong to Lee Mendelson; the music belongs to Vince Guaraldi. Now you must REVIEW!!!!!

"_Christmas time is here,  
happiness and cheer,  
fun for all that children call  
their favorite time of the year."_

Molly hurried down the cobblestone street, using one hand to push the pram and the other to hold her eldest son's hand tightly. "Now Bill, don't let go of Charlie."

"I won't Mummy," Bill replied obediently, tugging a bit harder then necessary on his little brother's arm.

"Owe! Mum, Bill is hurting me."

"Don't hurt your brother. Now we just need to get one more thing and then, if you're good, we'll get ice cream." She let out a huff. "I hope Walstone's still has a good turkey," she mumbled to herself, putting on a burst of speed. The sooner she got all of her shopping done, the sooner they could all head home. It was two days before Christmas and she had a long list of things to do. They had been in Diagon Alley since half twelve and it was now dangerously close to supper time.

"Mummy," Charlie whined.

"Charles Weasley, you know better than to whine. Use your normal voice." She saw Bill's smirk out of the corner of her eye.

"But, I'm soooo hungry," he complained.

"I know, I know dear. We just have to get one more thing. Why don't you and Bill decide which flavor of ice cream you're going to get."

She paused as a group of Swedish tourists filed across the street, blocking the grocery entrance. As soon as they had passed, she dodged into the store, never letting go of Bill's hand. She saw a large display in the back. There were brightly wrapped Turkeys stacked up in a large, glass-front cabinet. She sighed. There was no way she would be able to push a cart and still keep hold of the boys. "Now you two, I'm going to leave you here for a minute. You are not allowed to budge from this bench. I'm going to leave Percy here to and so help me if you wander off or wake your brother up, you will be getting no ice cream and bed without dinner when you get home. Do I make myself clear?" Bill and Charlie nodded, sitting on the bench. Molly gave her own curt nod and headed toward the turkeys.

She hadn't been gone more than thirty seconds when she heard a crash. She closed her eyes tightly, willing it not to be her sons. She turned slowly. "BILIUS AND CHARLES WEASLEY!" she boomed. The five and three-year-olds looked up guiltily, covered from top to toe in custard. Apparently, as soon as her back was turned, Charlie had shoved Bill rather violently, spurring the him to push back . . . into a large display coincidently right beside the bench where they were supposed to be sitting.

The shop owner came marching up the boys and Molly rushed toward them, her face flushed in embarrassment. Percy was wailing, his arms waving madly. She picked him up. "I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, trying to shush Percy, apologize to the shop keeper and glare at Bill and Charlie all at the same time. The result was a frightfully frenzied expression. She drew her wand from her pocket and pointed it at the display.

"Well ma'am, I just can't have-"

"I _know_ and don't you worry. They will be severely punished when they get home," she sent the two a nasty glare.

"Well, I should hope so! I've half a mind to make them stay here and work off the damage!" he boomed, looking at the boys sternly. He then leaned toward Molly, out of Bill and Charlie's ear shot. "I have four boys myself," he whispered, giving her a reassuring smile. "You clean them up and I'll fetch your turkey." She could have cried! He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze before tossing a distinctly disgruntled look Bill and Charlie's way.

When they got home, Arthur was there, sitting at the now set kitchen table reading the _Evening Prophet_ . Without a word, Molly parked Percy's pram and marched the little boys into their room. You could say many things about Molly Weasley but no one could every say she was inconsistent. She made up two plates of toast and two glasses of water which she levitated into their room. "Hard day?" Arthur asked, setting down his paper.

"I suppose so," she replied, smiling despite herself. No one had ever been so understanding before. She knew how she and her family must look to the rest of the world but, just this once, she felt like someone understood what she was going through. That brief moment of understanding was all the Christmas present she wanted that year. She set a bowl of stew in front of Arthur before tucking in to her own dinner, Percy slumbering happily nearby.

The next morning, Christmas Eve morning, Bill and Charlie wandered into the kitchen, staring at their scrubby, wrinkled, sock-covered feet. Each red head was mussed and their tiny faces held traces of tears. Her hear melted. "Good morning dears," she greeted, setting two giant plates of pancakes on the table.

"We, are we . . . " Bill trailed off, staring greedily at the pancakes.

"All is forgiven. It's a new day and you've been punished. It's all over. Happy Christmas Eve. Uncle Gideon and Uncle Fabian are coming later to help you make your Gingerbread Houses. Now eat up, you look dead on your feet." They didn't need telling twice and both climbed into their respective seats.

"There chocolate chip!" Charlie exclaimed, grinning widely.

"Yes, well you deserve something special on Christmas Eve," Molly said softly, kissing both of them on the tops of their ginger heads. She could feel it was going to be a marvelous Christmas.

A/N: This came from the blending together of two of my childhood experiences. I know it's been a while but things are getting really busy here. I have a presentation this week, a paper next week and another paper the next week. That's without concerts and parties and things so I don't know how soon I'm going to be able to post. I still hope to get out twelve chapters by Christmas Even though! PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!


	6. Christmas Wish

Disclaimer: I don't know anything. Enjoy and REVIEW!!!

"_When we recall Christmas past, we usually find that the simplest things - not the great occasions - give off the greatest glow of happiness."_  
-Bob Hope

Molly woke up to three pairs of eyes staring up at her, their small faces practically glowing in anticipation. The tallest was Bill, here eldest. He was eight and growing up far too fast for her liking. Charlie was next. He was much shorter than Bill, having taken from her side of the family. Even at six, he was stocky, with broad shoulders and strong arms. The youngest of the three was Percy, her little helper. He was just two but already acted as her eyes and ears around the house. "Happy Christmas Mum!" they exclaimed in chorus.

"Happy Christmas dears," she greeted, pushing herself up against the headboard. Arthur stirred next to her and, in a moment was as awake as she was.

"Can we open presents now?" Charlie asked, clasping his hands in front of him. "Can we Dad, can we?"

"Not until we've eaten breakfast and then only one. You know the rules," Molly stated calmly. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and grabbed her dressing gown.

"Ugh!" Charlie let out, following her closely. "Why just one?" he whined. Molly rolled her eyes, not answering.

"Because Charlie," Bill began. "Uncle Gid, Uncle Ben and Grandad are coming round for Christmas dinner and we open presents as a family." Charlie gave Bill a dirty look as if to say 'I wasn't asking you!'.

"Mum," Percy pulled on her robe.

"What is it Percy?" she asked, pulling the flour down from the cupboard.

"I'm hungry."

"I know, breakfast will be ready in five minutes. Why don't you three go and get Fred and George. They should be awake by now." Her three elder sons scurried off to get the babies. She couldn't believe that less than ten years ago, none of them had been around. It had just been her and Arthur, alone. She shook her head slowly, pouring the flour into a bowl. It was a special day so she was making scones, sausages, eggs, the works.

After the family of seven had had their fill, they all settled around the fireplace in the living room. Percy was wearing an old, bowler hat that Arthur had rigged with Christmas lights and tinsel and, with Bill's help, was passing out the presents each family member had selected as their first gift. Molly's eyes darted to Charlie who had an almost painful look plastered on his excited face. He had been talking of only one toy for months and she knew he wanted it more than anything in the whole world. They had seen it in a toy shop window over the summer and Molly had had to physically pull him away.

"Here Mummy," Percy handed her a small package she knew was from the three of them. Fred, who was on her lap, tried to grab it.

"No, no Freddy," she chided softly, handing him his favorite toy, a violent green rubber chicken Fabian had given him. Arthur had George in his arms and was trying to fend off the eight-month-old who was trying to get at the tea in his hand.

Molly heard Charlie's swift intake of breath as Bill handed him his present. "Okay, Fred and George first!" Bill commanded. Arthur "helped" the babies unwrap a pair of teddy bears from cousin Max. Then it was Percy's turn. He held the book of fairy tales in his small hands reverently. Then it was Charlie's turn. He looked almost too scared to open it and only moved after Bill gave him a violent push. He drew the paper back slowly, not breathing. His eyes went big and a gigantic grin spread across his face. He looked up and locked eyes with Molly. Her heart melted.

"Do you like it Charlie?" Arthur asked, grinning widely himself. Charlie nodded furiously.

"Thank you," he managed, his voice sounding tight and choked. "It's brilliant!"

"I'm glad you like it dear," Molly replied brightly. "It" was a working diagram of a dragon harem in which the tiny figurines actually flew and breathed fire. Molly couldn't blame the boy for setting his heart to it; she was tempted to play with it herself.

Bill loved his real Egyptian fedora; Molly loved her homemade snow globe and Arthur rushed to his shed to put his new spark plugs with the others in his collection but no one seemed as happy as Charlie. The rest of the morning rushed by and soon Gideon, Fabian and her father had arrived bearing brightly colored packages, gobs of sweets and bottles of fire whisky.

Molly pulled the chicken from the oven. Dinner was simple that year, nothing like last year's feast, but Charlie's gift had been expensive. They weren't destitute though, not yet. They were still able to splurge a bit and the look on Charlie's face was enough to feed Molly's appetite for a whole year.

A/N: Thanks to those of you who read and even more to those of you who reviewed. I hope you liked this chapter! Now tell me how you feel and REVIEW!!!!!!


	7. A Pair

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

"_Oh there's no place like home _

_For the holidays, 'cause no matter  
How far away you roam,  
If you want  
To be happy in a million ways  
For the holidays, you can't beat  
Home, sweet home."_

-Robert Allen and Al Stillman

Molly's stomach turned violently as the normally welcome smell of a full English fry-up wafted into the room. She fell back against the pillows, all of the energy she'd tried so hard for the last five minutes to muster, draining out of her. Why did she feel so ill? She never got sick, never. Even when she was pregnant with the boys, she had been fine. She could feel herself begin to panic. Was something more sinister at work here? Had she contracted some obscure, incurable disease? Incredible fatigue washed over her, washing away her sense of panic. Without meaning to, she closed her eyes and fell back asleep.

"Molly dear," a distant voice coaxed. She forced open her heavy eyelids and Arthur's outline stepped out of obscurity.

"Oh no Arthur, I over slept. I'm sorry; I don't know what's gotten into me lately." Arthur looked at her, worry written all over his freckled face.

"I'm due at the office but if you need-"

"No," Molly interrupted, pushing herself up and out of the bed. "You go to work; I'll be fine."

"You're sure?"

"Yes Arthur, I'm sure."

"And you promise to take it easy today?" Arthur demanded sternly. Molly nodded; easy was relative. "Good, I'll tell Bill and Charlie to be especially helpful."

Molly felt sick and sluggish the whole day. True to their word, Bill and Charlie were very helpful. They helped her clean up a bit, make lunch, and hang up the Christmas garlands, everything she asked them to do. Even Fred and George, who were always getting into some sort of mischief, were on their best behavior. It was days like this that made her heart swell with pride at her six sons.

She even managed to take a nap with Fred, George, Ron and Percy and woke up feeling a bit better (even better when she saw that all four of them were still asleep). Her excitement was short-lived, however; it was nearly four and she needed to start on dinner. On her way to the kitchen, she found Bill and Charlie asleep on the couch, an unfinished game of exploding snap spread out before them on the coffee table. It was a rare occurrence that all of her children were asleep at the same time when she was not.

Dinner that night was going to be light since everything seemed to make her nauseated. She whipped up a big pot of stew, using a nose-plug charm to keep herself from getting sick. Whatever illness she had contracted, she hoped the children didn't get it. That was the last thing she needed, six little boys with stomach flu.

She set the lid on the pot and wiped her hands on her apron. She heard muffled whispering from the nursery. It sounded like Percy. She tiptoed to the door and looked in. Percy had Ron in his lap, a fluffy teddy bear set in front of the two of them. "You're going to be mine," Percy whispered to the baby, his eyes oddly bright. "Bill and Charlie have each other and Fred and George too but you and I are going to be a pair. I'll never be mean to you or take your toys and I'll never tell you that you're stupid or boring, never ever!" Molly's heart melted. "You can always come to me and I'll listen to you. Not like stupid Charlie who thinks everything I say is stupid! He's a meany-head anyway . . . You'll never think I'm stupid will you Ron?" the baby gurgled happily in reply and Molly saw Percy's wan face spread into a grin a mile wide. "Do you want to know a secret?" Percy waited, as if expecting baby Ron to reply in earnest. "You're my favorite brother and this is going to be my favorite Christmas because now _I'll_ have someone! Each of us has someone now Ron, forever, and ever, and ever."

Molly didn't want Percy to know that she had heard so she quickly tiptoed back to the kitchen. As heart warming as Percy's words had been, she couldn't help but feel sorry for the little boy. He wasn't like her other sons. He always wanted to strictly follow the rules, and had always been more interested in books than Quidditch. She knew that Bill and Charlie loved their younger brother but she couldn't blame them for not understanding him fully. He was hard to relate to, hard to gauge. Maybe Percy was right. Maybe now he and Ron could have the relationship that Bill and Charlie had; maybe unexpected number six had come along for a reason. She gave the stew a few stirs, still musing. Six was a good, round number. She could be happy with six.


	8. Gingerbread Men

Disclaimer: You know the drill. I don't own anything:)

"_And here's a hand my trusted friend,_

_and gie's a hand o' thine._

_We'll take a cup of kindness yet_

_for auld lang syne."_

_-Robert Burns_

"Does everyone have a gingerbread man?" Molly asked, her hands on her hips. There was a chorus of exuberant "Yes!"s, the most exuberant coming from her flour covered husband who was holding their daughter in his lap. "Okay, I want to still be able to see the table after you're done so the icing needs to stay on the plates. Remember to share." Each Weasley nodded obediently but began eyeing prized decorations greedily, small hands twitching in anticipation. "Okay, go ahead." A flash of little fists followed and she rolled her eyes. It was the same every year. She sat at the head of the table and started knitting a jumper for little Ron who was being coached on proper biscuit-decorating protocol by his elder brother Percy.

She surveyed her family lovingly. Despite the level of noise and chaos, this was a love-filled family afternoon. It had been a couple months since the end of the war but it was still such a welcome treat to have her husband home during the day any day, let alone a Tuesday. Now it was the little things that could cheer her. Things like Fred giving George and impromptu hug or Bill sharing the bowl of multi-colored sprinkles with Charlie without asking could put a smile on her face. She no longer needed the constant assurance of her family's safety to make her happy. But it had all come at such a terrible cost. Even under the sincere layer of contentment lay a constant inner mourning.

She felt her eyes well up and she quickly set down her knitting and left the room. The cool December breeze whipped around her and she felt her chest hitch. She brought her hand up to her mouth, stifling the sob that came up. It happened at least once a day, a quiet, quick cry before she was able to go about her day. Last year, Gideon and Fabian had been here decorating gingerbread men along with her sons. Their voices had added to the mileau and they had helped the younger ones get icing all over themselves. She could still see their bright, happy faces laughing one of Charlie's silly jokes or at the twins' increasingly devious tricks. The hardest thing was that she still wasn't quite sure which she would rather have, last year or this year. She couldn't decide if, given the choice, she would choose to have her brothers back at the expense of her family's safety. She knew which Gideon and Fabian would have chosen. They would be angry with her for even pausing to debate.

It had been so hard. Ginny was barely a month old when they recieved the news. It had come from her father who had arrived on their doorstep in the middle of the night, eyes blood shot. A member of the Order had told him. The following month and half had been agony. She was grieving and worrying and losing sleep all at the same time. That fateful Halloween night had not come soon enough . . . for so many reasons. She felt incredibly guilty for thinking so. James and Lily Potter had lost their lives and little Harry, her own Ron's age, had lost his parents but she wouldn't have been able to last much longer.

She batted her tears away and took a deep breath before stepping back into the kitchen. "Arthur Weasley! Don't you dare give that baby sugar!" She exclaimed, glaring at her husband. In the end, life goes on. Inexorably, life goes on.

A/N: Sorry it's been so long! I've been traveling home and seeing friends and family. I'm not sure if I'll get everything out before tomorrow night but before the twelve days of Christmas are over, I'll get out the final four chapters:) Thanks for reviewing and I hope you liked this slightly more melancholy chapter.


	9. Homecoming

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

_"I'll be home for Christmas._

_You can plan on me._

_Please have snow and mistletoe,_

_and presents on the tree._

_Christmas Eve will find me_

_where the love light gleams._

_I'll be home for Christmas; _

_if only in my dreams."_

-Walter Kent and James Gannon

Molly stands at the station, nervous in a strangely pleasant way. The train is due at any minute and for the first time in a long time, she is alone to her thoughts. Arthur had decided that the rest of the brood should stay home as the thought of getting all of them to the crowded station, let alone keeping them occupied until the Hogwarts Express arrived, is akin to getting teeth pulled. He volunteered to help the rest of the boys and Ginny put the finishing touches on Bill's Welcome Home! Party.

She clutches her large handbag to herself and glances furtively at the other awaiting relatives. There are a couple of small families but on the whole, there are single parents like her. It makes sense since the students' arrival has fallen on a Wednesday afternoon. She lets out a breath slowly and wonders if Bill will have gotten taller. She wonders if he's managed to outgrow his robes or if he's let his hair grow out too long as he has a penchant for doing.

Another mother ambles over to her, breaking her line of thought. "First time?" she asks, smiling.

"Yes, Bill's our eldest," Molly replies.

"My boy Angus is a fourth year and Agnes, my daughter, is a second. How many do you have?" The woman sounds nice but Molly still hesitates before telling her the truth. The realities of Molly's day-to-day existence often seem to baffle strangers and their surprised reaction at finding out the size of her family leaves Molly feeling freakish and uncomfortable.

"Seven. Charlie's after Bill and then Percy, the twins Fred and George and then Ron and finally my youngest, Ginny."

"Wow, that's quite a brood! I don't know how you do it. You must be praying for the day they're all in school."

Molly nods politely and gives the woman a smile. She does not want the conversation to go further and she breathes a sigh of relief when, a moment later, the train pulls into the station. "It was nice talking to you. Maybe we'll see each other here again," Molly says, extending her plump hand. "I'm Molly Weasley by the way."

"Angela O'Malley and I do hope to see you again!" She leaves Molly with a jaunty wave before moving quickly through the crowd of parents to the front of the mob. Molly does the same for lack of anything better to do and waits.

It is not hard to spot Bill. He is taller than the other first years and his brilliant red hair stands out in the sea of black robes. "Bill!' she exclaims. He blushes and averts his eyes but walks over to her, lugging his trunk behind him. In a second, she has her arms around him and plants a kiss on his cheek. She hadn't quite realized how much she's missed him.

"Mum!" he moans, wiping the invisible kiss from his cheek.

"You've let your hair grow out," she complains, batting away at the tears forming in her eyes.

"Yeah, I like it," Bill answers testily. "Can we go now?" Molly nods and they head toward the entrance back to King's Cross. She waves her wand at his trunk, making it suddenly weightless, much to his relief.

"I've missed you so much Bill!" Molly tells him softly, giving him a one-armed hug.

"I've missed you too," he whispers, though he won't look her in the face and instead focuses on the floor tiles.

They walk out onto the chilly street and find an alleyway where Molly can side-long Bill home. They arrive with a pop to a dead-silent house. Molly tries to hide her grin at Bill's shocked expression. "Welcome home Bill!" she says, triggering the lights to come on and various Weasleys to jump out from behind furniture and doors yelling the same. Bill jumps into the air in surprise but looks pleased and somehow much older than his eleven years.

A nice tea follows with lots of hot cocoa and cake and all of Bill's favorite sweets. The minute Bill sits down, Charlie is at his side and Ron crawls into his lap. He is absorbed back into the fold immediately, as if he has never left the Burrow. Molly sits on the sofa, surveying her newly united family lovingly. It feels so wonderful to have the whole family back together for Christmas.

A/N: This chapter is for my mother who has said the last line more times in the past five days than I can count! I hope you liked the chapter and please REVIEW!!!


	10. A Very Romanian Christmas

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

"_Dashing through the snow_

_in a one horse open sleigh,_

_o're the fields we go,_

_laughing all the way . . . "_

-James Lord Pierpont

"Ginny, are you packed?" Molly called up the stairs.

"Almost," Ginny bellowed. Molly had been nagging Ginny to start packing for two days. She would have just done it herself except that the ten-year-old insisted on doing it herself; Ginny could be very hard headed when she wanted to be and it just wasn't worth the trouble.

"If you and your suitcase aren't ready in ten minutes, I'm coming up there and packing the thing myself and you'll have no say in what goes inside." Ginny knew it wasn't an empty threat and Molly could almost hear her pick up the pace. Just then Arthur apparated, looking distinctly disheveled.

"I'm sorry Mollywobbles; I got caught up in a-"

"Are _you _packed?" Molly interrupted, eyeing the balding wizard irritably.

"No I-"

"Ten minutes and then we're leaving with whatever you've got in that bag." Molly said through gritted teeth. As much as Ginny took after her, there were certain aspects of her daughter's personality that practically screamed Arthur Weasley. Arthur dashed up the stairs. She looked around the room, taking inventory. She'd sent the boys' Christmas presents that morning with a post owl (Errol really wouldn't have been able to make the journey) and she'd sent Bill's last week. That left gifts for Arthur, Charlie, and Ginny and then the gifts Arthur had bought. Ginny said she was packing her own. Molly had also packed a magically expanded picnic basket with three days worth of cooking. She'd seen Charlie's kitchen and there was no way _it _would produce a proper Christmas dinner, even if the twenty-something got it in his head to cook.

They were due in Romania at half ten and it was already ten past. "Ginny, I'm coming up there."

"Fine Mum, I'm done," Ginny replied though her voice sounded a bit higher than usual. Molly climbed the stairs to her daughter's room and opened the door. It looked like a tornado had been through but at least the suitcase was closed and Ginny was dressed. "See," Ginny gloated.

"Yes, well you wouldn't have had to scramble if you'd packed when I told you to. Have you got enough pants for a week and a half?"

"Mum!" Ginny exclaimed, blushing profusely.

"Well? I don't want you to have to wear Charlie's half way through the trip," Molly smiled devilishly. She could joke, as much as her children denied it.

"Yes, I have everything on the list," Ginny extended the list Molly had written a couple days previously.

"Well at least you didn't lose that. Now let's go check on your father." Molly flicked her wand at the suitcase and it zoomed down the stairs to meet the others.

Five minutes later, the shrunken family accompanied their shrunken wares into the fireplace. Ginny tumbled out of the fireplace first and was quickly followed by her mother and then her father. "Charlie!" Ginny exclaimed. The dragon trainer was stretched out on his ratty sofa, his leg propped up on a pillow. She dashed over to him and threw her arms around his neck.

"Hey Ginnykins!" he greeted, ruffling her hair. "How's my favorite sister?"

"I'm your only sister. How are _you_? We've been so worried."

"No need to worry. It'll be fully healed within a month or so. Hey do you see I got a Christmas tree?"

Molly looked around the room. This was not what she'd had in mind when she'd started planning for Christmas in September.

A/N: Okay, so I'm really trying to finish but we'll see. I hope you enjoyed! REVIEW!!!!

Merry Christmas Eve,

Liz


	11. Complete

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

_"The holly and the ivy,  
when they are both full grown,  
of all the trees that are in the wood,  
the holly bears the crown."_

_-Traditional English_

It's just over a week until Christmas and there are a thousand and one things to do. All of this Order business is heaped on top of her already long list of Christmas-related to-doings. At the moment, Molly is attempting to clean the house. She had no idea how, with just two people living there, the house has gotten this messy. Of course she's always known that Arthur is hardly the neatest man in the world but this is ridiculous. She's had a busy, taxing day besides and her mind keeps going back to what the healer said that morning.

It isn't like she's had no idea or that they had even wanted another one but . . . She bats at her eyes with irritation. This is not something to be sad about, she tells herself firmly. If anything, she can relax now. She flicks her wand at her bed and the covers jump back into place. She has always been amazed that Muggles have to do all of this by hand. She looks down at her wrist watch. It's late but Arthur is on patrol and she can't go to sleep until he's home. Unfortunately, that means that there are many night she is not in bed until very early in the morning.

She realizes with a jolt that this will be their first Christmas as a complete family. Up until this year, there had always been a chance, however slim, that there would be another Weasley joining the throng. Not anymore. Her days as full time caretaker/diaper-changer/milk-producer are officially, undeniably over. "Pull yourself together Molly," she mutters angrily. This is no time to fall a part. There is enough going on without her mind fixating on this.

She moves on to the living room which defintely needs a good dusting. Her eyes fall on a family photo. It is it one that was taken the Christmas before Percy went away to school. Arthur is holding Ginny who is squirming, a gigantic smile painted on her face along with a lot of chocolate her brothers have snuck her. Ron is in her lap, asleep because he'd been up the entire night before waiting for Father Christmas. The twins have snuck up behind Percy and are ready to attatch a sprig of mistletoe to his head with wood glue. Bill and Charlie are proudly displaying their Chudley Cannons jersies, a gift from Mum and Dad. They all look so happy.

Her heart aches. Percy . . . she hasn't the foggiest idea what to do about Percy. He had always been so stubborn and bound up in rules (not that she didn't like that about him at times). It breaks her heart that he's not talking to them, that he seems to despise them so much. However, she knows that it can't go on forever. Percy got his stubbornness from her afterall and she has set her mind to getting him back in the fold. Her mind is pulled from her third born by the appearance of a Patronus. Something has happened to Arthur.

A/N; I know it doesn't go into the actual Christmas but I feel like if I go further it's going to end up being a big long thing which isn't really in keeping with the rest of the chapters (short, oh so short). Besides, you all know what happens next. Anywho, just one more chapter to go and I'm about to write that right now!

Here's hoping you had a fantastic first, second, third and fourth day of Christmas!  
-Liz


	12. The Sum of It

Disclaimer: This is the last time in this fic that I will say that I own nothing.

_"We __two have paddled__ in the __stream__,  
__from__ morning sun till dine;  
But seas between us __broad have roared__  
__since__ auld lang syne._

_And there's a hand my trusty __friend__.  
And __give us__ a hand o' thine.  
And we'll __take__ a right __good-will draught__,  
for auld lang syne."_

_-Robert Burns_

Molly looked around the house. It would only be a few more hours now before everyone came and the house would be full again. She sighed. These walls held so many memories. Some of them were good, some of them were bad but they were all here. She looked out her window at the softly falling snow. Arthur always loved the snow. He'd get the children bundled up and take them outside to make forts and snowmen, to sled down the orchard hill. Ever since becoming a mother, _her_ thoughts on snow had centered around wet boots tracking mud through the house and not-so-good-natured snow ball fights making someone or other cry. She supposed that was what had made them such a good team. He had left such a big hole in her life, in her heart . . .

All of the Christmases they had had together in this house swirled through her mind, a thousand images, countless presents, the smells of a hundred plus Christmas dinners. What did it all amount to now? Who would be the keeper of these memories once she was gone? She had never thought of it before. Once she passed on, once she re-joined Arthur, the memories of these Christmases would be gone. Of course the children had their own memories but she and Arthur had been the glue that held them together. The thought that these memories would slip into obscurity was more than her already aching heart could bear. She pulled her warm dressing gown more firmly about her shoulders and tried to think of something to do that would ease her troubled mind.

She sat down at the writing desk that Arthur had set up for her. It overlooked the back yard and had a roll-top that was just like the one her grandmother had had. She pulled out a piece of parchment, dipped her favorite quill into her favorite bright purple ink and began to write.

_When Arthur and I were first married . . . _

A/N: It's over. I know I'm a couple days past what I had been aiming for but I did my best which I hope counts for something! A big thank you goes out to the people who reviewed. It always brightened up my day! Now I have time to focus on my other story which has been super, super neglected as of late:)

Thanks again,

Liz


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